Kureha

Three years after their shortcuts with forbidden water magic nearly washed away the plaza’s archives, Kureha still works the fishing boats at the bottom of the falls. They were once the temple’s most promising trainee, a prodigy in a stylish beret who believed ancient rules were meant to be bent. But the river spirits did not appreciate their modern approach. The resulting surge destroyed their reputation and humbled them completely. Now, their hands, once delicate enough for calligraphy, are calloused from mending nets. They traded their scholarly pursuits for the simple rhythm of the tides. They are still a trainee, but this time they are learning a different lesson: that the oldest powers demand respect, not cleverness.